Survival, Book 1
by X-Shadow.of.Darkness-X
Summary: First in a planned trilogy. Joe Tomlinson was a survivor. Armed with a deadly array of weaponry, a plethora of knowledge and his own dark tale, he must help Bill, Louis, Francis and Zoey leave Fairfield. But can he ignore the temptation to travel further afield with them? No romance, loosely based on the games.


**Survival, Book One**

**A/N:**** I started a version of this story several years ago, and even had a few chapters on this site, before I became dissatisfied with both the content and quality. Recently, the plot bunny of this story sprung up and refused to leave. Therefore, I have decided to give this story another go, under a different title.**

**I have taken liberties with a couple of small details as well as some larger ones, simply for the realism of the story, the main difference being that this story will be set two MONTHS after first infection, rather than two weeks. It will become apparent why as the story progresses. This story is based off of the No Mercy campaign, though will not follow it exactly.**

**This is the first of a planned series, which will need to be read in order to understand elements of the later planned stories. This "book" has already been completely planned out, plot-wise.**

**Chapter One**

He could see them through the night-vision scope on his sniper rifle. Four people, moving out of an alleyway he knew led to a safe house. He was sure they were Survivors; they were too wary, too cautious in their movements to be Infected. But he knew it was dangerous to assume. He had learnt that the hard way before now. That lesson had cost the lives of six other people. As he watched, they formed a circle, facing outward, guns trained down the roads and alleys. Firearms meant nothing; he had seen mutations of the Infected, he was sure they could have improved their higher cognitive functions through mutation, moving away from pure animal instinct. His finger tightened slightly on the trigger as one of the group trained their gun on his position, even though he was completely concealed by shadows.

He made a snap decision. He stood, stowing the sniper rifle on his back and pulling his pistols from their holsters on his hips. He silently slipped out of the shadows, pointing his guns at the group.

"Don't move. If you make any sudden movements, I'll kill you where you stand."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Zoey let out a sigh of relief as they stepped out into the road. Two months of running between safe houses, waiting for an evacuation call, fighting the Infected citizens of Fairfield along the way had reduced the entire group to paranoia. She saw Bill, Francis and Louis raise their guns and she did the same, scanning the street for Infected.

Over the last two weeks, they had heard unnatural shrieks and roars in the middle of the night, but were yet to determine what they originated from. Bill, their "leader", was convinced that the Infected were changing, evolving. Louis had scoffed and dismissed this claim. Nothing could evolve within months, he had said.

She heard a rustle coming from a shadowy corner, and trained her pistol in the general direction. Nothing. She let out a breath she had not realised she had been holding. The group slowly ventured further out into the street.

"Don't move. If you make any sudden movements, I'll kill you where you stand."

They all froze. Zoey turned her head in the direction the voice had come from and saw a man standing there, not far from where she had heard the noise not a moment ago, twin pistols pointed straight at them.

"Who are you?" he asked, not lowering his weapons, eyeing them warily. Bill stepped forward, assault rifle held loosely, but still able to be brought to bear quickly.

"Lower your weapons, son, we aren't Infected."

Two clicks echoed around the dark street as the stranger clicked the safety catches off on his pistols.

"Not what I asked, I asked _who_ you are, not _what_ you are."

Bill's grip tightened on his rifle.

"My name is Bill, my companions are Francis, Louis and Zoey." he said, gesturing to each in turn. The man lowered his pistols, reapplying the safety's, though he didn't re-holster them, stepping further out into the street.

"Joe Tomlinson." the man replied.

Looking at him properly, Zoey could see a vast array of weapons hanging off Joe. An assault rifle and sniper rifle were hanging over his back, with a full auto shotgun secured underneath them. Around his waist was an army issue belt, with pipe bombs and med packs attached in easily accessible places. Two pistol holsters were strapped around his hips and looking down, Zoey could see two wicked-looking knives strapped to his lower legs. All in all, he looked like a walking weapons display. His hair could have at one time been blond, but was now streaked with dirt and grime, and was tangled and unkempt. He looked as though he hadn't shaved in many weeks and sported several cuts on his face and arms, most of which seemed only half healed.

"Where are you heading?" Joe asked, his eyes flicking around the street as he spoke.

"There was an evac call for Mercy Hospital." the man called Louis replied, adjusting his grip on his submachine gun.

Joe nodded.

"It won't be easy getting there." he said, his tone heavy. "I was there a couple of weeks ago. The place was crawling with Infected. They'll have completely overrun it by now."

"If you were there, why didn't you evacuate?" Zoey asked.

"Evacuate to where?" Joe replied, his eyes hard. "The Infection is too far spread now. Nowhere is safe."

"So what do we do?" Francis asked, eying Joe's weaponry with something akin to jealousy.

"Survive."

Silence reigned for a moment. Zoey stared at the man. He seemed incredibly detached from the world, almost like he didn't care what happened anymore. Finally, Joe spoke again.

"If you really want to get to Mercy Hospital, I'll take you. But I won't be coming with you."

"Why not?" Bill asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"There might be other survivors around here." Joe replied. "I have to help them as well." He glared at each of the group in turn, as if daring them to argue. No one did. Joe holstered his pistols and pulled the sniper rifle off his back.

"Come on, I know a shortcut."


End file.
